Nine Christmases Later: A Holiday That Finally Feels Like Home - Finding Cooper's Voice

When My son Isaac was born, it was just before Christmas.

We spent that year just staring at this perfect baby that was all ours, envisioning the Christmas days we had to come, the visits to Santa, and the traditions we would make as a family together.

That was before we knew how hard Christmas would be for our boy—before we knew that what we thought he wanted was not actually what he needed. It was before we knew that wrapped presents made him feel uneasy, that moving the room around to fit a Christmas tree in caused chaos in his mind.

Before we knew that he couldn’t tolerate the food we had put on his plate, that the toys we had picked outside of his love for buses and lights just didn’t interest him. It was before we knew that the bright lights and the change of routine would cause him to fall into a pattern of constant meltdowns because he couldn’t tell us that all he needed was the normality of everyday life.

I spent the first few years crying at the end of Christmas Day, exhausted and broken, feeling like a failure as a mother because I just didn’t know what to do—how to make Isaac feel better about the holidays.

I wanted him to love it.

I wanted him to feel the magic that I felt as a child, to see the beauty in it. We decided that instead of trying to force it, we would just let Isaac take the lead. It was the best decision we ever made; it made us better parents to Isaac.

Now we don’t spend the day watching our child fall apart anymore.

We watch him laugh and spin with the biggest smile on his face.
We keep Christmas Day the same for him as any other day.
We leave his presents in the corner unwrapped so he can bring them to us when he wants to look at them.
We buy pretty much the same buses every year because he loves them, and his face lights up as if he’s seeing them for the first time.

We buy lights and sensory toys to help him regulate.
We watch the same film we watch every day, and he can listen to his favourite songs.
We all eat Christmas dinner, and Isaac eats his favourite cheese pizza. He doesn’t have to sit with us; he can eat wherever he wants.
We don’t have loads of visitors, and it all works perfectly for us.

Our youngest loves Christmas, but as he has gotten older we have identified certain triggers which cause him to become overwhelmed just like his brother, so we have changed things around to make sure both boys are getting exactly what they need during the holidays.

For Kodi, taking away the elf eased his worries, and talking about exactly what is going to happen gives him the security he needs to feel understood. Isaac and Kodi’s needs are both so different, but our goal at the end of the day is exactly the same:

to make them feel loved and safe, always.

If you are at the start of your journey, I see you.

I have felt what you are feeling, but believe me when I tell you it gets easier.

Those first few years can be tough, trying to figure out what works for your family, but keep holding on because I can promise you it won’t last forever.

I don’t cry at the end of the day anymore. Instead, I go to bed smiling because when I look back to when the children were babies, this is exactly what I envisioned—two happy boys with the biggest smiles on Christmas Day, because we found the magic.